WOLVES WAIT AT YOUR DOOR — fishing. sort of.



( ) Though the air was slowly fading from a heavy heat to a crispness as the seasons changed, the sun still shone. Beams of light landed upon the river, light refracting in all directions across the flowing surface. Scenic. The river had a sense of calm about it, but those who were familiar with the beast would never be fooled. There were the shallows, of course, where young ones played without a second thought. There were the easy hunting locations, in and out with a stack of fish in moments. Areas like this were less so inclined to treat their visitors with such respect. But beneath that misleading surface of glittering reflect was gold. Who needed a stack of fish when you could catch one that amounted to just as much food?

Looming above the river was one Wolfsquall. His stature was of one who stood tall, and would perhaps stand even taller should his posture not be shoulders pushed up and head lowered in a hung. Following the nature of his posture, fur seemed to stick up along the ridge of his back, not unlike the spikes of a cactus. Patches of sunlight filtered through the sparse trees above gave his fur the quality of the last tree remaining from a forest fire; the color of bark that had covered in a thin layer of ash, the remnants of his surroundings. All in all, he looked remarkably unkempt. Unapproachable, even. The focus upon his face would feel out of place to anyone who had never met the man, and judged firmly based on first impressions. That focus was genuine, however, and it paid off. He finally spotted it. A catfish.

Big fella too... Damn good find, Wolf.

Eyes locked on the fish as it slowly made it's way closer and closer towards Wolfsquall. Claws were let out and back in again, paws flexing and unflexing, as the cat lowered himself closer to the ground. This was not a fish he could swipe at with one swift motion. He needed to dive for it. Careful to keep his shadow away from surfacing upon the water, and locking himself in place to avoid carelessly scaring away the catch of the day, he waited with bated breaths. The closer it got, the more he held his breath, until finally the catfish was directly in front of him. An influx of air in one deep inhale caused his chest to rise, right before holding his breath and jumping for it. Back legs gave him all the power he needed to land right upon this monster of a fish, one quick bite, and drag it back up to shore. At least, his back legs gave him all the power he thought he needed.

For a moment, all was fine. He reached the water— though how good a start this was was debatable as water was never his favorite place to be immersed in— and bared his teeth in preparation for the catch. Paws landed upon the fish, and he lunged for the kill. Before he could get the kill however, the catfish made it clear it was not happy with this ordeal. A quick flick of it's tail and Wolf's front paws slipped away, pulling him further into the water alongside them. Dark paws hit the rocky bottom of the river, and that catch of the day took it's chance at one final piece of payback. The same tail that slid his paws away, reared back and hit Wolfsquall across the jaw with a force that made it seem planned and personal. Just as soon as he had the fish in his grasp, it had swum away to safety, and the ashy tom was left scrambling to find his way back to the shore.

Paws flailing and tail flicking around created splashes of water that guaranteed no more fish would swim in this area. And any cat who managed to see it would have quite an entertaining show to see. A scowl placed itself on Wolf's face long before he managed to pull himself back on solid land. River water had made its way down his throat in between gasps, so rather than hurried breaths for air when his head popped back up, he greeted the world out of water with a loud hack of a cough. Claws dug their way slowly across the mud and onto shore. If he had any less dignity, he'd flop to the floor in that instant.

"Slippery son of a bitch..." he sputtered, still coughing on the water he'd managed to gulp down in the ordeal, "I had him..." He was sure no Riverclanner would ever look more like they didn't belong in water than Wolf in that exact moment. Soaked to the bone, and sore in the jaw from a fish of all things. Good thing no one was around to see this shame. So he thought.

tl;dr wolfsquall goes out fishing. finds a big ol catfish. overestimates his skills with massive fish and swimming, gets slapped by the fish and splashes around in the water for a bit before he can finally pull himself out. and now he stands at the edge of the river looking like a cat who's really mad that you just tried to give it a bath


Unlike Wolfsquall, or perhaps in comical light and day fashion- Dogteeth was a cat that didn’t belong on solid ground. His sights linger lazily on the rippling edges of the river where it laps at the stones and tugs on the grass blades that hang over like little viridescent rainbows. Paws pressed to the lip of the gully edge. He was simply bathing in the sun with dripping fur- he’s nearly dry, but thanks to his curls he was but a sponge and it took him longer than most Riverclanners.

A shape stalks the winding rocky trail of the river, dark and bent- long-legged and crooked in a hunter’s watchful stance- fur looking sharp enough to cut and sticking out like the barbs on a rose stem. Wolfsquall, Dogteeth noted with a slacking of his jaws. The man looked so focused- it was entrancing. ‘oh he’s on the fin of something for sure’, the tom thinks with a small smile but respectful silence. He launches into the water, spears the surface with precision. Dogteeth crane’s his neck to watch- and the dark warrior is gone.

A nervous nag nips in his stomach, and when the surface bursts once more with a loud hack and gust- Dogteeth jolts to his paws in alarm. Racing to the shore that the coughing warrior wades toward. His steps uneven and messy, loose rocks making his paws slip and the scowl on Wolfsquall’s face takes the cake- he reels and stumbles back to quickly let the man have some room and stumbles once more.

" OH- … oh Hunnie are you okay?! " his soft voice cracked from the dryness of his throat. He curses- purely angered and for good reason. Only, in this situation- Dogteeth the gentle feels like he’s going to get bit. Subconsciously a paw lifts and almost reaches for Wolfsquall’s shoulder but he pulls it back with lightning speed like a flinch.

" I-I… I’m sure he won’t get away from you next time-… " words meant to encourage, but he didn’t know what sort of bear he might be poking. This warrior was quite intimidating!

ooc: love him sm omg and your writing is so pretty !!!

there's a loud and unruly bark of laughter as buckgait approaches a foolish man. very little does she get to be entertained, but the earthen-pelted woman is entirely sure that the scene of this poor-postured brute being beaten by some catfish won't be leaving her anytime soon. she does not offer concern as the well-furred dogtooth does, nor does she try to comfort or encourage him. if he's foolish enough to try and grab at a fat catfish without anyone beside him, then he got what he deserved.

she has little care for whether @LIGHTNINGSTONE wants to engage in a conversation or not, he can stand back as he always does. an unwilling participant of whatever buck had thrown herself into. "had him? is that what you'd call it?" it's a gruff and callous thing compared to dogteeth's calmer and far more sensitive tone. what an unfitting name. "pretty sure that beast had you. he got you good, huh?" the sound of a rough fin hitting against bone is not something unfamiliar to buck, but she can't ever say she's experienced it. the molly has more of a survival instinct and rationality than to go after something like that. if she wants something big and fat, she'd get more claws to keep the fish still and drag it to the lands. seems wolfsquall lacked that.

buckgait is by his side in a calm trot, eyeing the moving waters to see if she can still catch a glimpse of wolf's intended target. not that she expects it to stay around, but just to keep an eye on it. the waters run clear and quickly disperse of any remnants of the short fight. now she turns to the man of wounded pride and awaits for whatever he has to say now, though she doubts it'll be anything as entertaining as a full grown man being humbled by a catfish.